A Fat Girl Does Warrior II.


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“You will never find a more worthy spiritual opponent than your own self.”

~ Yoganand Michael Carroll

Anyone can do Warrior Two pose. Anyone who can stand on their legs. Even fat girls.

The first time I held Warrior Two, and I mean really held it, till sweat beaded on my bare back and shoulders like jewelry and heat rose up from my toes and lapped my insides with fire, I felt so beautiful for one slice of brief moment. I imagined I glistened like a night star soaked with moonlight. I was not fat.

But I thought I was.

My whole life, I thought I was fat. Sometimes I was, squeezing my sausage flesh into size 18’s and sometimes I wasn’t, with size 8 Gap jeans falling down on my hips.

But to a girl, who has a long time been a woman, with body hatred that stained her before age 12, true size is irrelevant. Those of us who obsess on the appearance of our body are a secret club of sisters (and brothers) who have become kin to Alice. We have been down in the hole for so long, we no longer know what is real. More importantly we don’t know ourselves, where we begin or end, and how to climb out. We only know how to measure our own sense of worth, black and white, good and bad, with broken rulers.

We are piles of flesh, food and shame.

Some will read this and say I am being overly dramatic. Focus on something more important like starving children. They are much more worthy of our attention. I agree.

But you can’t focus on things more worthy when you are stuck in the pit of your own unworthiness at the most primal level.

There is nothing more primal then our own body. Our bodies get sick, heal, taste, smell, see, hear, fight, love and feel. They feel anger, joy, lust and fear. When we don’t pay attention to our bodies, we disconnect from what is happening in the present moment and live in the limits of our mind.

A yoga teacher once said the only thing we know for certain in each moment is the rise and fall of our breath and the sensation we feel in our bodies.

This is the only truth and everything else is a story. Everything else. My fat girl doesn’t live in the truth of her body. She lives in the drama of her story. But to climb out of story she has to relearn how to live in her body in a truthful and compassionate way.

Warrior Two is a foundational pose.

Foundational because you are standing on your own two legs. Anyone can do it. Its not just for the uber-flexible or the advanced yogi. No matter who you are and how much yoga you have done, this pose will become challenging when held for longer than a few breaths.

Warrior Two is a grounding pose.

Yoga poses are done in bare feet for a reason. To feel the ground which is always underneath us and to remind us that we are a part of it. Plus bare feet make it easier to stay in place and not slip or fall. Although falling would not be the end of the world. Everyone has to fall sometime.

Hold Warrior Two and eventually you will feel heat in your inner legs and thighs. Maybe just a little at first, but wait, more will come. The warmth will seem to come up from the ground and swell throughout your whole body and will eventually lead to sweat.

Heat and sweat are desirable in yoga. Don’t bail. Stay on the mat. By staying, you are mixing your discipline with inner brilliance. Pressure and heat. This is how diamonds are made.

Warrior Two is not a pose for the weak.

It requires grounding, stamina and hugging muscle to the bone. It demands strong quads and arms and a connection to our bellies. It requires the breath. The breath with a capital B, not a meager small one. Without full deep breaths, Warrior Two deadens. It is no longer a fighter. Its weary.

But the thing about Warrior Two is it cannot be all strength and stabilization, or it becomes rigid and inflexible. It will drain you. It requires an openness. A willingness to let in ease and comfort.

The poet Jane Kenyon wrote,

“God will not leave you comfortless.”

Maybe it is only ourselves who leave us comfortless.

Patanjali, the father of yoga said the poses should be both steady and comfortable. That is the only thing he wrote about the physicality of the poses out of hundreds of verses on how to do yoga. So it must be crucial. Steady meaning rock the pose. Hold it firmly. No one can push you over. You look out over your third finger and you are fierce. A don’t mess with me attitude. Don’t fuck with me. I can handle what ever life brings my way. I have to. But if I want to be a yogi, I can’t just push my way through the hard stuff.

What about the comfort? It is true, we are directly responsible for our own comfort. To find it, the yogi has to listen. She has to have the courage to let go of being in charge of everything that is happening in her life at each moment and trust. She has to let go of being perfect and blaming herself or others when things don’t go her way. She has to stop hiding behind whatever tale of woe she has spent her life cultivating and trust that she will be found.

The interior battle is to have faith that if she lets go of the edge of what is known, she will not come crashing down. She must believe that no matter what is happening, it is okay to be both strong and soft.

The power of what can be perceived as opposites will set us free and make us whole.

Yoga is skill in action.

On the yoga mat, the yogi is developing her skills and her connection to what is truthful and humble. Everything else is illusion.

My relationship with Warrior Two began at Kripalu. I was new on the path of yoga. My yoga teacher back home, Brian, convinced me to go to Kripalu because he thought I would like it. “The place was made for you,” he said. “Make sure you get into the hot tub. Don’t miss out on the hot tub.”

Which later on I found out was done naked.

No one wore a bathing suit. A thick veil of steam filled the room. A gathering of a half dozen women or so sat inside the rectangular pool. All were immersed in water up to their shoulders. Only their faces could be seen in the dim light. The motor of the pump that made the bubbles blurred any private conversation. The white towels Kripalu provided barely covered my torso, forget covering my breast, pubic hair and butt. I almost died as I lowered my ample naked body into the steamy water amongst a group of strange woman.

For a moment, they all glanced up. And then they looked away. Back to the bubbles. Chlorine wafted in the air and mingled with my sense of accomplishment. I did not die of shame.

It was with this new secret feeling of being able to go naked in front of strangers far away from home a few hours later in a heated yoga room filled with mirrors, I took my place among yogis. Most were young and beautiful. Lots of bare shoulders and thighs. Out of the corner of my eyes were long braids flowing down muscled backs, tattoos, and piercings.

I felt out of place but wanted to fit in. I wished I was the girl with the nose ring but I could never bring myself to adorn my adult body with something my parents would disapprove of.

As I unrolled my sticky mat, Seth, the yoga teacher, a tall stick of a middle-aged man with a headband wrapped around his bald head, came over to me. He kneeled down in front of me. His joints moved like greased axle rods.

“This is a vigorous class,” he said. “If you are looking for the beginners, its one door down.”

He had a slight lisp. He reminded me of a bird without feathers.

“I know.” I say back. He smiles and walks away. My mind goes crazy. Does he think I don’t belong here? Does he think I am too big to do heated yoga? Does he think I am pregnant because of my belly fat that I cannot hide? Do I belong here? Maybe he checks in with all new students and lets them know what they are getting into. Maybe I am crazy. Calm down, Anne.

I get on hands and knees and lift my butt up into the air for a warm up of downward facing dog. The class has yet to begin and I don’t want to just sit there and pretend to meditate. I don’t want anyone else to look at me. I just want the class to get going.

But then I am looking at me. The yoga room is lined with mirrors.

This is like a house of horrors for me. I am drawn to them. They suck me in. They scare me. I do not like what I see. My belly too big. My arms grotesque. But I cannot look away.

Class begins. With each movement and each breath I start to forget. I forget that I am fat, too mainstream or don’t belong. Whatever mean and crappy story I tell myself, I begin to forget. As my breathing becomes more even and my bra becomes soaked, I forget to bash myself with my own words.

It is amazing how underneath all of my judgement, I feel happy, confident, and alive. Is this what I am scared of? Is this what my judgement keeps down?

There is a moment where Seth, the stickbird yoga teacher, calls out Warrior Two. A pose I have done a thousand times before but never in front of a mirror. I stare myself in the eyes and for one moment I think I see myself plain as day.

My legs are holding me upright. My hips are wide open. My arms reach out a million miles in either direction. My heart moves up and down with the cadence of my breath.

I am a prayer.

Nothing else matters. Let the stars shine down on me. Let the hot air from the heat vent blow in my face. And then I see it. In the copper irises of my eyes. I am neither fat nor thin, weak or strong. The yogi with the flowing long hair, perfect butt and nose ring who I was jealous of earlier, is behind me. She sees me too and smiles.

Holding Warrior Two, somewhere between steady and comfort, I realize I am so much more than this physical body and yet this is the one I got. It doesn’t matter if it is fat or thin, strong or weak. It could all change on a dime anyways.

Today is what matters and today I could stay in Warrior pose all day. Well maybe not all day. But I know I would not fall over in a storm. That has to count for something.


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Ed: Catherine Monkman


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Anne Falkowski

Anne Falkowski has been teaching and practicing yoga for over 15 years. Currently she is obsessed with Forrest Yoga and can't possibly relax her neck enough. She writes for her blog and owns a yoga studio in Connecticut. Contact her by email


30 Responses to “A Fat Girl Does Warrior II.”

  1. beth says:

    That was the most beautiful thing to read this morning,. It put tears in my eyes and inspired me to really want to start practicing yoga . So thanks for that. 🙂

  2. Ashramgirl7 says:

    Wow – I loved the raw honesty of your piece. You caught the shame, the comparison to the fit yoginis, the horror of the mirror when you have self-judgement (real or imagined) and the transcendent moment of owning your practice. I am so glad you wrote this! With gratitude for your bravery on the page and in the practice room.

  3. shanan says:

    what a beautiful post. I know it speaks to many of us. thanks, anne.

  4. breakfastwithsussi says:

    Beautifully written and yes, dramatic, but expresses completely the body image battle I was fighting for most of my adult life. Thankfully… no more. Well, not much, except occasionally when… LOL.. At least I can laugh now at how I tortured myself with perfection. Thank you for this.


  5. wellnessprofitness says:

    Beautiful, Anne, thank you for writing and sharing this.

  6. lybsta says:

    Really beautiful article! Thank you.

  7. Sharon says:

    Raw, eloquent and honest. May we all champion for ourselves . Beautiful Anne!

  8. imagineannie says:

    This was astonishing, and not at all what I expected. It may be the best description I've ever read of how I feel about my own body. How did you know?!?!?!

  9. Jamie says:

    So moving. Thank you <3 <3 <3

  10. afloweringsoul says:

    I really needed this NOW! Last Tuesday, after 7 years of procedures/surgeries/drugs/pain I decided to give up on expecting the Dr's to help my spine injury. I decided to quit doing yoga once in awhile and start getting serious about it and my health and well being! I've been to 6 classes since then. I changed my diet and my attitude too. I got this!!

  11. Kathy says:

    I remember the first time I got up the courage to lower myself into the water at kripalu. Really changed me

  12. Enette says:

    This article was written from my soul. I’m the biggest girl in yoga class, the biggest girl in my run group and I have the same story. Except yoga has made me feel perfect, graceful and beautiful like never before. Even when I fall. Thank you for sharing and letting me know I’m not alone

  13. Courtney says:

    You nailed it

  14. Edith says:

    Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

  15. Jenn says:

    Love this…you describe what it feels to have body image issues perfectly. This gives me courage to continue to fight this battle and belief that I can WIN!

  16. Fledgling says:

    Thank you so very much. My heart is pierced. Time to get back on the mat. I've been so ashamed, so afraid for so long. I feel redeemed.

  17. rawteamama says:

    beautifully and powerfully written – thank you!

  18. envisionhealing says:

    This is a superbly written and inspiring piece. We need more women writers like you. Looking forward to what you write next. Thank you.

  19. Shannon says:

    Beautiful, strong, tender, and heartbreaking. You captured perfectly how shame keeps us prisoner and how a yoga practice frees our spirit and connects us to ourselves. Best description of yoga I’ve ever read. You wrote my feelings. Thank you.

  20. onesadhaka says:

    Maybe the pose would be easier if you did Blessed Protector pose. After all, that is what virabhadrasana means, not warrior (kshatriya). it invokes an entirely different feeling if you do that. the cognitive dissonance of sporting a 'warrior' pose in a practice that is based on non-violence (clue…war and warriors are all about violence) can take a toll on you. Try it : ) Yogis are blessed protectors, not warriors.

    • Anne says:

      Oh Dear onesadhaka, the pose is my blessed protector. So beautifully put. To Warrior and to Protect are opposite sides of the same coin. So yogic to embrace both and fear none. Thanks.

  21. jodi says:

    Brilliant and so spot on for so many of us. You certainly are plugged in and a radiant light to be able to articulate the exact thoughts I have had countless times, right down to the instructor giving me a welcome(warning).

    Thank you for sharing your vulnerable and courageous heart!

  22. yoganikkie says:

    This article is absolutely incredible and I thank you for writing and sharing it! I too went to Kripalu, coming up on ten years ago for my YTT and could not have described the hot tub more accurately! Thank you for taking me back to that magical time in my life and reminding me why I practice and teach!!! My "breakthrough" pose was Warrior One, in the Shadowbrook room at Kripalu!

  23. Lauren says:

    Thank you so much for sharing. This is beautiful! Warrior Two makes me feel like a goddess. Love this.

  24. Melissa says:

    Your words are a bullet between my eyes. It's as if you were writing to me, for me. The self-criticism story that runs on a continuous loop in my head is something I have always known. I cannot remember a time when it wasn't playing. Thank you for the courage. You have embarked on the Warrior's Path…and have pointed the way to many of your readers, like me.

  25. Thanks for sharing! As a curvy yogateacher I can truly relate! You rock girl!

  26. nancym823 says:

    I love this post! I reposted it with a posting of my own attached for my 200hr YTT group. I want to share it with both our author Anne and anyone else who wants to read (Thanks Anne, this is a beautiful and inspiring piece of writing!):

    This EJ post literally gave me goose bumps upon reaching the conclusion. I read this article with strong identification with the writer and her experience in her body and in yoga class. You all have met me at a time when I have more muscle and less body fat than ever before. I know that upon meeting new people, the natural assumption is that this version of my physical presentation is accepted as "always, already" as we tend to do while meeting people for the first time. This, however, is not the case, as we all have our personal histories (and the stories we have woven for ourselves to explain them). In fact this is the first time in my life that I live in my body at this size and have a healthy attitude and a healthy desire and means of achieving and maintaining it. My first identification of myself as a "fat girl" happened when I was 5. At some point I transitioned to thinking of myself as a "brawny lass" which I deemed as a more accepting and loving way of holding on to my self-judgement. I have been involved in this aspect of my relationship with my body for 40 years.

    Believe it or not, this "success" is remarkably destabilizing… Which is not "bad", it just is. And it is presenting me with a great gift of an opportunity to address and mellow out the destabilizing thoughts and feelings and potentially put to rest some unhealthy emotional habits that do not serve me well. As we walk our paths together, I imagine I am not the only one experiencing fundamental shifts in one's relationship to one's body. My hope in posting is not to shine a light on me, and feed my ego by fishing for congratulations or any kind of admiration for the work I am doing, but rather to share my experience of the shift in hopes that it resonates with someone else and serves a higher purpose than simply me, even though just me is enough. 🙂

    I love and nurture my body now not because I am pleased to have reduced body fat, and want to strive for more, but rather because it is healthy and strong and it can do so many things for me and I can do so many things with it just as it is. There are times that I can hold a mighty mighty Warrior II, and the warrior positions have always been hard for me. I do want to get stronger but I am working diligently on caring less what the scale or mirror tell me (I know, easy for me to say now.) I don't even want more muscle, per se, as much as I want to be able to hold a headstand without a wall because it feels so flipping good for me to be upside down.

    Old habits are well entrenched and hard to break so the continued internal drama about old body issues may reoccur and may even remain strong for a time: "thanks ego, thanks pain-body, and thanks monkey mind for doing your jobs… Ta ta for now." (Repeat as needed )

    I am getting strong.
    And that statement has nothing to do with muscles.
    Thank you sangha.

  27. presenciaenletras says:

    Beautiful! Poetry in words, straight forward wisdom.
    Beautiful. As everything what really matter.
    Skinny as I am, limited in my physic as I am (I don't know why people tend to think that "skinnies are naturally rubber made"), I share your visual of "out there in public" fear and the "already made ideas" they all get and assure of me.

    I practice at home, in front of a mirror. My teachers always regarded it as a "flaw of ego". Being not naturally a wise Patanjali, I think having a mirror helps me in my postures. Merely that.

    Lately, I've came to the idea that, yes: this is the body I came with. And I rather (and better) enjoy it to its fullest. Even if my psoas and my lumbars don't help me a shit in most places and I have too many blocks and too much of a rope to held a thing alike a Padangustasana in a more or less "clinically acceptable" way.

    From Ashtanga, I passed to Anusara due to my lumbars (too skinny people tend to be too rigid in most areas of their lives…). From Anusara.. .I passed to Iyengar (in books), my BREATHING (all capital letters) and my "today I feel like doing this pose now" more late visual.

    It has been 18 months since. I can't say I've made a substancial progress…But on my re-joice level.
    My way to happiness with me, and the body I own… not the one that (well, sometimes I still forget it's not like that) owns me has changed substancially since I don't hit no yoga studio and I foccus in hoy I feel inside or how my breathing goes at that very point.

    Bravo! And thanks.. .for inspiring so many and "listening" to some others.
    Thanks… for putting in words a good part of my relation with yoga: indisciplined, love-hathred, breathing based, grounding and tearing-based(Tearing: breaking and crying) and joyfull… absolutely blissful in the end. Deep within.

    Yes, we all fear bliss… I think I can make it a pilar truth in my life with no mistake there: We fear joy and bliss.
    Keep on going, neither fat nor skinny woman!

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